Page 21 of Desperation

Drake and I fell into our easy routine. Without any extra distractions, we got our normal back. Actually, we were better than normal. Drake sometimes had to work overtime, so he was gone more. That meant there were fewer chances of me pissing him off and him losing his cool. Plus, his longer absences seemed to make him miss me more. He was affectionate and tender, always touching me and rubbing my growing stomach every chance he got. Things were so much better.

But I still couldn’t stop wishing he was someone else.

Chapter Seventeen

Devon

It was too fucking hot. Not only was the scorching midday sun beating down on us in our fatigues, but there was something on fire everywhere you turned.

We’d been here for over two weeks and still hadn’t infiltrated the terrorist cell that orchestrated the attack on the embassy. Every lead we followed ended up being a dud, but we were getting closer. I could feel it. There was a thrum in the air, like an electrical charge. My brothers and I were on high alert. They could feel it too.

Even though we were miles outside the city where the attack took place, the intel we received led us here. This dusty, sparsely populated town didn’t look like a hub for terrorism, but I was sure the cave Bin Laden hid in hadn’t either.

My body was drained, my muscles overworked and fatigued when I finally laid my head down to sleep. This was the only time I let myself think abouther. Our days were mercifully too busy to think about much else but surviving and finding the bastards who’d taken seven American lives.

I closed my eyes against the horrors of this place and conjured Hannah in my mind. The day she’d let me help her bake cookies was the last time I saw her beautiful, smiling face. I pictured her as she’d been with flour on her cheek, her eyes devouring me, begging me to kiss her, to hold her. Her skin was so soft and warm, scented like the vanilla she’d added to the cookie dough. Her lips the flavor of the chocolate chips she'd snuck from the bag when she thought I wasn’t looking. I would’ve given anything to deepen that kiss, to make her feel wanted, adored. She deserved someone who would worship her and make her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. And I wanted it to be me. I wanted to be her everything. Her protector, her lover, her future.

I’d never get that chance, though. She didn’t see me as she had before the revelation. Drake had divulged my shameful secret, sending Hannah running from me, her face twisted with disgust and disappointment. It was a cold, calculated move. I had no doubt he’d done that on purpose at just the right moment. He could see there was a connection between Hannah and me, and he did what he had to do to sever it. He told her the one thing about my past that would make her lose all respect for me.

I’d lost my head in the moment she ran off, trying to distance herself from me. I followed her, not giving one single fuck that Drake was right there. He saw me running after her, heard me pleading at her door, and I couldn’t make myself care.

I returned to the living room and instantly regretted that slip in judgment. Would he punish her for my actions? How would she fare after I left and there was no one there to protect her?

“Great, now your girlfriend hates me.” I tried to play it off like I was worried about creating tension between Hannah and me for his sake. “She’s not gonna let me back over here. We’ll never get to hang out now,” I’d huffed in frustration. I was selling it hard. The frustration was real, but not for the reason he thought.

“Let me make something clear,” he began, rising from his perch in front of the TV, “she doesn’t make the decisions around here. I do,” he declared. “If I say you’re welcome here, then that’s how it’s gonna be.” He was playing a game too, testing me to see how I’d react.

“Don’t even worry about it. I gotta report back in a couple days, and I’ll be gone for a while. Maybe this will all blow over by then.” His face relaxed, and a triumphant gleam sparkled in his eyes.

“In that case, I’ll let you know when the baby is born, and maybe you can come back for a visit, meet my son.” I felt his invitation like a knife in the gut. He was rubbing it in, reminding me that Hannah was his, and she carried his child. He would always have some claim on her, no matter what. I fought the urge to ball my hands into fists and swallowed back my pride.

“Yeah, man, that would be great.” His shoulders relaxed a bit, and the challenge disappeared from his stony glare. “If I don’t see you before he’s born, congrats.”

“Thanks, cuz.” He clapped me on the back and led me to the door, my welcome officially overstayed. I left that night hoping I’d been convincing enough to keep him from taking his anger out on the woman hiding in his room. And it made me sick to think she’d been hiding from me.

That was nineteen days ago.

Nineteen days since I’d looked into Hannah’s sparkling green eyes.

Nineteen days since I'd kissed her for the first and last time.

Nineteen fucking days since I'd left her with the monster who shared my blood.

It killed me not to know how she was, if she was safe, or if Drake had kept his latest promise not to hurt her. It wasn’t like I could call her up and check on her, as much as I wanted to. All I had left were my memories and the dreams I’d hoped for, trying to will them into existence. But I was too exhausted. I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, clutching to all I had left of her: my memories.

The next morning, the streets were eerily quiet. I awoke at dawn and got cleaned up before donning my uniform and lacing up my boots. My brothers and I scarfed down our breakfast before venturing out to follow up on a lead we’d been alerted to yesterday evening. If this intel didn’t garner results, and our target was indeed in the wind, we’d be moving out in the next twenty-four hours, onto the next location that promised a break in the case.

Something felt off as we trudged along, skirting the crudely constructed stone building bordering the compound where our target was thought to be located. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, the uneasy feeling a contradiction to the peaceful, balmy morning. I scanned the horizon, surveying the landscape for hidden threats, but nothing caught my eye. I took a step, and then another, and another, until I started to relax. I told myself I was imagining things, that I was overreacting. Until a quick flash of light glinted off to the east, and then a resounding crack of thunder echoed through the air. But it wasn’t thunder. It was followed by several more loud cracks, and bullets whizzed by, the sound so close to my head, I instinctively ducked for cover. A second later, a loud explosion shook the earth, and I saw my brothers flying through the air and landing in the dirt, lifeless and bloody. Searing pain speared through my leg as shrapnel sliced through my skin, embedding itself into my thigh. I prayed it missed my femoral artery. If it was punctured, I’d bleed out in a matter of minutes.

A second explosion rocked through the village. Dust and debris clouded the air as little pieces of stone came loose and fell around me. Rolling onto my stomach, I crawled for cover, ensuring that I stayed low to the ground. Once my body was shielded by a low stone wall where a small cafe sat unoccupied in the early light of the morning, I assessed my wound. Blood was oozing out of my leg, saturating my pants, and a piece of metal jutted from my flesh. I knew better than to try to remove it even though I was positive it had missed any major blood vessels. Not allowing myself a moment to dwell on my injury, I tied a tourniquet above it and set my rifle up to search the area I suspected our shooter was stationed. It only took two minutes for me to find him. He’d been hidden well, his clothing blending in with the buildings, his position one of advantage. He was good.

But I was better.

One shot. That was all it took, and he was down. I wasn’t naive enough to believe the threat was neutralized.

A moment later, more shots rang out. The wall next to me was peppered with bullets, leaving little indentations in their wake. Either they weren’t completely certain where my shot had come from, or they had piss poor aim. Regardless, I ducked for cover to avoid being hit. After a moment, the shooting stopped, and I could only guess my attacker was reloading. Then one final crack and the sound of boots thudding across the dirt, and I was flanked by two of my brothers.

“Damnit, Kingsley, I thought you were a goner,” Enzo shouted, lifting me to my feet.”

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